


Celine in Yharnam

by TheBrandenRose



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, One Shot, depressing shit, songfic but not annoyingly so or so i tried not to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrandenRose/pseuds/TheBrandenRose
Summary: Howdy,It’s been a fat minute since I wrote anything. I’m still planning on continuing my Skyrim stuff, but for the moment have a one-shot I thought of like literally yesterday. I guess it’s kind of a songfic? But not annoyingly so, just lyrics splattered her and there said by characters and morphed to fit Bloodborne’s theme.If it interests anyone, this piece is based off the song"Celine in Jerusalem", by Rome. It’s also the inspiration for the title, obviously.
Relationships: hinted oc hunter/other oc hunter





	Celine in Yharnam

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy,
> 
> It’s been a fat minute since I wrote anything. I’m still planning on continuing my Skyrim stuff, but for the moment have a one-shot I thought of like literally yesterday. I guess it’s kind of a songfic? But not annoyingly so, just lyrics splattered her and there said by characters and morphed to fit Bloodborne’s theme.
> 
> If it interests anyone, this piece is based off the song"Celine in Jerusalem", by Rome. It’s also the inspiration for the title, obviously.

Yharnam's streets were alight with quiet and lonely deaths, and Celine's would be no different. There would be no mourners, no men and women dressed in black to grieve over her, to dress her for a proper burial. What purpose was her funeral when she’d leave no body to bury?

Celine limped silently into a corner obscured by crates and sacks of foodstuffs abandoned by the Hunt. Her tattered coat was drenched with the blood of beasts, mingling with her own. Blood vials would be useless at this point, and the Frenzy was slowly creeping into her psyche. Too bad Sedatives were in short supply.

This was a mistake. All a mistake.

She remembered how gleeful the old man in the Dream looked when she walked up the steps to his workshop. His eyes still belied heavy sorrow, but the sight of her had brought him some joy, nonetheless.

"We fought back, once," he'd said. "But now our guns have been stowed away, the battles unfought, lessons untaught."

His lips curved into a slight smile.

"But now we've brought you here, Celine, scarred from sickness, but still alive. The blood still does some good, it seems"

She gazed up at the pale red sky, the blood moon watching Yharnam like a beast's eye. Had she known what the blood entailed, what contract she'd bound herself to, she might have let her illness take her.

And there had been seemingly nothing amiss when she first set foot into Yharnam. From afar, she imagined it all must look so ordinary. The Hunt, like the calm preceding it, is tidy and clean from a distance. But in the heat of it, no hands are clean.

It's like the old man said, she thought. All innocence has gone to hell, thanks to the Healing Church. And the price for their crimes, for her and others, is perpetual death.

Perhaps this was her punishment for the brashness of all her years. Even Aloysius had said, defeated and hopeless: "It's not an easy thing to hold you close, my dear."

His words echoed in her mind as the Frenzy threatened to breach her sanity.

"It's not an easy thing to lift you up, nor hold you down, regardless."

She began to laugh, her knees buckling; the threaded cane she chose from the workshop was the only thing propping her up at this point.

"You’re right," she said, images of her and him breaking down the doors of memory. She remembered her cursing and yelling in response to his comments, throwing things at him like a temperamental child. He made no response other than turning his back and walking away for the final time.

"I am hard to keep close. There is no love for me."

She looked up at the sky once again. They could've walked, hand-in-hand, through all this. Had he not abandoned her. Had she not pushed him away. As tears swam in her eyes, she remembered his final words as he looked back at her.

"I leave you to make your fate," he'd said, tipping the brim of his Hunter's tricorn. "Or your demise. Whichever one finds you first."

For the first time in a long while, she broke down, crying as if she were a little girl again. She let her threaded cane slip, the clanging against the cobblestone echoing through the silent streets.

All her life she had taken the solitary way, but now she wished for the brush of a hand against her cheek, a calming word. Anything that eased her woes. The Hunt was a long, lonely night.

"I can't do this anymore!" she cried, tears mixing with the grime and blood on her cheeks. Her vision was beginning to fade, and bloody spit dribbled from the edge of her mouth.

She sobbed, opening her arms as if addressing the looming visage of the moon. "Not even death will embrace me."

Something hard snapped inside her, like a branch underfoot, and her eyes rolled back as her limbs became limp, unable to hold themselves anymore. There was no fighting her demise much longer. Screaming, she fell face first into another death.


End file.
